


Her Skin is Dressed in Sunlight

by ThornQueen



Series: Well Dressed [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Fluff and Smut, Morning Sex, Mornings have never been so beautiful, Please throw me in the sin-bin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 16:09:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6122022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornQueen/pseuds/ThornQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is hard not to be tempted by the woman you love, especially when she is laying next to you dressed in nothing but sunlight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Skin is Dressed in Sunlight

He can feel the touch of dawn long before he opens his eyes. 

Warmth streams in through the windows, caressing his bare back and shoulders. Like the caress of a lover, Adrien feels sunlight sieving through his hair, tracing the shell of his ear with the invitation to bask a little longer. Take his time. No need to rush. Blushing sunlight soaks into his skin, making his muscles heavy, his body sinking deep into plush of his mattress. There is nowhere he needs to be this morning. There is no dawn photoshoot to go to, nor is Paris in need of his services. 

This is a rare morning, where he is free to bask in the golden pleasure of needing to be nowhere at all. 

A breeze redolent with the scents of early summer drifts in through the open balcony door. He can smell the flowers that grow lush and green on the balcony, their vines and creepers twining through the wrought iron bars. Dancing with the perfume of flowers is the familiar, savoury scent of the boulangerie down the street with its fresh breads and baguettes – nearly enough temptation for Adrien to open his eyes. 

There will be other mornings when he can sneak from the sweet embrace of his bed to purchase oven-warm bread. He’s slipped away into the dawn a time or two before to be the first into the boulangerie the moment its doors open. The owners know him well by now. 

They know him fondly as the young man who romances his wife in the mornings with fresh croissants. 

Dawn stirs Paris all around him, yet Adrien resists the call. There is another call in the dawn that draws him deeper, prompting him to tighten his arms around the warm body that presses against the length of his. Sleek muscle encased in silken skin. A body shaped through years of leaping across Paris; like his, honed through battle, their combined strength currently in abeyance in favour of boneless sleep. 

He turns his cheek into the silken mass of hair that fans out across the pillow, a colour so dark it is as if a remnant of the night exists in each strand. Scents tease his nose, far more tempting than fresh breads – the familiar scent of floral shampoo, of strawberry moisturizer wafting from soft skin, of sleep-warm woman still wrapped in the embrace of slumber. She smells of Marinette, and she smells of him, and Adrien can’t decide which one he finds the most arousing. 

An indolent smile turns the corners of his lips, his heart fluttering as it always does when he realizes the past years of his life had not been a dream. This is his reality now, waking up to a woman who was everything he could ever want. A beautiful, powerful, amazing woman who had magic in her eyes, her touch, and in her soul. In the night, she could fly through the skies of Paris on a thread of starlight, and he would forever chase after her from the shadows of Earth, drawn to her as the oceans were drawn by the moon. 

And when the dawn came, she would come back to Earth. An ethereal vision of red splashed in black melting away into a woman of flesh and bone, no less wondrous than the saviour of Paris, whose arms opened for him like the petals of flowers opening to embrace the sun. 

Despite the bad luck that had been stitched into his soul, worn on his skin in the form of leather armour, Adrien had had the luck to win the heart of his beloved Lady. He had, against all odds, convinced her of his love. In what felt like lifetimes ago, he had been the shadow that had reached out and touched the sun, an earth-bound ocean who had surged up to wrap around the distant moon. 

He had given his heart to her along with everything in him that he had to give. 

And she had given her heart in return. 

Now Adrien lay with his arms around his Lady, _his wife_ , letting one hand stroke from the curve of her shoulder to the swell of her hip. He knew every freckle, every scar, every soft inch of skin on her body. The constellations in the sky were not as well mapped as the constellations of Marinette’s flesh, each celestial picture of freckles having been traced by his hands, his lips, his tongue. She has been worshiped by him in the way Egypt once worshiped gods. 

With morning light pouring in from all around, she looks like a goddess, and Adrien is inspired to worship her anew. 

He turns his lips into the curve of her neck, ghosting kisses from the hollow beneath her ear to the dip where neck meets shoulder. His palm glides up from her hip, caressing over her hipbone to the soft swell of her belly, counting each rib as they came. His trek upward ends with the weight of her breast in his palm, his thumb lazily brushing across her nipple. Under his contented ministrations, her flesh awakens, beading to his touch, coming awake long before its mistress stirs. 

Adrien squints into the golden glow that radiates throughout their bedroom. His eyes are drawn to the beauty who still sleeps pressed against him, her back to his chest, the round, perfect swells of her ass pressed into his stirring groin. 

He lifts himself to press a reverent kiss to her flushed cheek, groaning to see even in sleep that she is smiling. 

His movement puts only the slightest space between them, but it is enough for cool air to rush in. Marinette’s smile wavers. Sheets rustle as she wriggles back, searching out the warm flesh that had been pressed against her for all the hours of the night. Adrien is quick to oblige, pressing a fresh bout of kisses to the shell of her ear, the fan of her hair, grinning into the back of her neck as she murmurs approvingly, pressing back more firmly into his body. 

_“Oh,”_ he breathes softly, illicit with the many wicked promises that are being whispered to him by the warm sunlight that still caresses his body. The arm that is wrapped beneath Marinette curves up to press her more definitely against him. He turns his other hand to another task, tracing southward once more, across a landscape that he will never grow tired of discovering. 

Her thighs twitch under his touch. He can feel firm muscle jumping with every pass of his fingertips. Her whole body is coming awake, moving in rhythm to the gentle rocking he has instigated. He is bringing her alive, and she, in turn, is bringing him to life in an increasingly provocative way. Moving them together as one long undulation, their bodies roll in sync to an age old dance. Instinctual, potent, they know every step by heart, their bodies moving without thought. 

Heat pours into Adrien’s blood, sparked from a warmth far deeper than what he has soaked in from the sun. Potent, liquid heat that trickles down his spine and pools in his groin, making him breathtakingly hard for the woman still floating in the in-between space between dreams and wakefulness. He comes alive to the touch of her skin to his skin, to the incredible feeling of her pulse dancing beneath her flesh. Her heart is fluttering for him, her breath beginning to shiver between her sweet lips, as his fingers dance attendance across her body. He worships her breast with one hand, and caresses the juncture of her thighs with the other. 

Adrien knows the moment when the dream crosses over into reality. He’s there to see the moment Marinette’s dawn-blue eyes open wide, almost immediately falling to half-mast as she tilts her head back, turning just enough to catch his eye. Dawn blue darkens to the flush of midnight lust, her cheeks growing rosier as sweet dreams melt away into something much better. Adrien feels the full strength of every muscle in her long, lean body stretching against him, thrilling to the manner with which he was waking them. 

_“Adrien.”_

His name on her lips enflames his ardour like a flame to a wick. The throbbing in his erection grows in time to the climbing beat of his heart. His lips trace their way across her neck once more, lingering for long moments over her pulse. He revels in the racing of her heart, each beat notching his desire higher. The mark he leaves on her skin fires a lightning bolt of desire across his flesh, devilish possessiveness rising in amidst the powerful emotions building in the tide of morning lust. 

His fingers slip between her writhing thighs, wet silk meeting his touch. A loud groan escapes from between his lips, muffled in her hair. Under the searching pads of his fingers, he parts her slick folds, tracing lips that he knew as intimately as the ones panting in his ear. He knows the rose blush colour they turn when she is in the throes of passion, the way her flesh grows plump and slick when desire takes hold. In his mind’s eye, he can see each glistening detail of her sex, enhanced by the dripping satin that currently gloves his fingers. 

But Marinette is not one to just blissfully receive his worship. She is not a goddess on a pedestal who is happy to let him grovel. No, she is a woman who gives as much as she loves to take. She worships his body with the same sensual devotion that he lavishes on her. Even now, her palms skate down every plane of his body, bringing to life every nerve ending, tensing each muscle. Her head turns, lips searching his, meeting in a frantic kiss. 

_“Please,”_ she gasps against his mouth, one arm reaching back to twine around his neck, ensuring that each breath between them is shared. _“I need to touch you.”_ She tenses to roll over, desperate to press her aching breasts to his firm chest. She wants to drag her palms down the ridges of his stomach, wrap her fingers around that part of him that aches only for her. She wants to sink into the heat of the moment, thriving in the wild ecstasy that comes from just the feel of him. 

_“No. Like this,”_ he whispers into her ear, hiking her thigh up so as to fit himself in the slick heat of her arousal from behind. The first touch of her against the crown of his erection is scalding, enough to take his breath away. Choice words flutter out against her skull, mindless obscenities that he was too polite to ever mutter in public, but here, in the warm cocoon of their bedroom in the embrace of morning light, he is too far gone to mind his manners. 

He feels the muscles of her leg tense under his palm, glad that she is awake enough to bend her knee. The sole of her foot plants itself on the mattress, tangled in the rucked sheets, leaving her open to him. Adrien nearly loses his mind the moment a warm palm closes around his cock, slim fingers fitting around his girth with familiar ease. 

_“M-Marinette,”_ he gasps, bucking into knowing touch. With every stroke, she is unravelling him to his very core, stripping away every civil façade until he is nothing by aching heat and want. 

_“Like this,”_ she moans in passionate agreement, a smile in her voice as she firms her palm, pressing his shaft against her slick folds in a long, wicked kiss. She knows just how to move against him, keeping him pressed into the lush valley where he truly believes heaven and hell exist. She rides him with long, languid rolls of her hips, letting the crown of his cock brush her clit, ratcheting up the intensity of the moment with every slick ripple of her body. His breath hitches every time he catches at her entrance, hanging on the precipice hoping that she will indulge him, but also savagely enjoying the time she is taking to pleasure herself with his body. 

The more she pleasures herself, the more he loses himself in her. 

His hand drops from her knee, skimming the trim muscle of her thigh, until his fingers ghost over hers. She pauses her stroking, nearly stopping his heart. He finds her swollen clit and pinches it gently between two fingers, soothing it with a firm, circling touch that has her hand clenching around him. 

A stuttering, delighted noise fills the room. 

A breathless, pleased moan of encouragement that fills his ears with something better than just the thunder of his heart. His chest tightens, his blood beating a wild staccato in his veins so quick that he wonders if his heart might race away without him. Even if it does, he’s not worried. It won’t go far. The woman who owns his heart is laying with him, writhing with him, and her racing heart belongs to him. A fair trade, a heart for a heart. But she also owns him body and soul, and he has never been so glad for the enslavement. 

Their lips find each other of their own volition, so passionate that their teeth clatter together. Marinette wastes no time fitting him to her entrance, sinking down on his cock with a cry that is only matched by the heartfelt groan that vibrates from his chest. Timeless, trapped in the moment where there is only the two of them in the world, all they feel is the slick, sliding pressure of one joining the other. Wet, and heat, and wild abandon. 

Adrien thrusts home like every piston of his hips is the next beat of his heart. He mouths whatever flesh he can gets his lips on, muttering mindless sweet nothings into her cheek, her neck, leaving scores of fresh love bites in his wake. The arm that he has wrapped beneath her body holds her steady against his increasingly ardent thrusts, his fingers rolling her nipple, adding sparks to the flame that he has stoked to life inside of her. His other hand is busy between her legs, stroking through her slick lips to set fire against the bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex. 

He can feel the end coming. Her hot, tight channel tightening around him in time to each breathless cry in his ear. One of her hands is between her legs, reaching between them to fondle his sac. Her clever fingers roll his taut balls, hefting their weight, slipping behind them to press on a bundle of nerves hidden behind his scrotum that sends fireworks erupting behind his eyes. 

Her other hand reaches back to grasp his hip, nails digging in, scoring red lines down his flesh.

_“Fuck!”_ He doesn’t mean to shout the word, but every other thought in his brain goes white hot. His hand his shaking with the force that he is thrumming her clit, thrusting his cock so quick and hard into her slick heat that tears are pricking at the corners of his eyes. He’s swollen inside her to the point where the friction of their moving bodies is sending him into nuclear territory. The tight clasp of her sheath has robbed him of every higher order brain function. She’s tightening to the point where there is no escape. 

He doesn’t want to escape. 

He wants to stay like this forever, in this delirious moment of pleasure stretched out into a morning that lasts eternity. 

A sunburst erupts between them when the fluttering of her sheath suddenly becomes a tight, sucking grasp powerful enough to rob him of his soul. Her abandoned cry sounds in his ear, severing his last ties with reality. Fire races from the base of his spine, up his shaft, pulsing in waves of ecstasy that are prolonged by the continued draw Marinette’s body has on his. 

Eventually, Adrien finds himself back in his own body. Their bedroom is silent except for the light song of the wind chime that hangs from their balcony, and the soft panting of their breaths. 

His sweat-slick skin is hot where it presses flush against his wife’s shuddering back. The breeze from the open door cools his other side. It takes more effort than he cares to admit to part himself from her, slipping from her body, taking a moment to revel in the wetness they made together. He plants kisses across her shoulders, down her spine, sweeping his hand over the curve of her hip, up the slope of her waist, worshiping her anew. 

_“I love you,”_ he manages to whisper hoarsely. 

_“I love you, too,”_ she replies, equally as breathless. Boneless. Somehow proving her fortitude by being the first to move with purpose, pushing him back to allow her space to turn over. Her lips find his in an instant, kissing him free of the few wits he had been able to spare from his orgasm. When they part, her eyes are alive with dawn light, her face flushed, her hair as wild as a storm in the night. Against his lips, she murmurs, _“Good morning.”_

_“Good morning,”_ he whispers back, taking in every detail of her perfect face. He cups a palm to her cheek, loving that she does not hesitate to tilt her head to his touch. _“We don’t have to be anywhere today,”_ he says, swallowing hard against the sudden lump that finds its way up his throat. He doesn’t know how it’s possible for her to look lovelier every time he looks at her, but she does. 

Marinette looks impossibly lovely while rumpled by both sleep and recent love-making. 

Impish delight takes hold in her sparkling eyes, her whole body moving with stunning grace until she is sitting stride him. The wetness between her thighs presses against his skin, making his heart race anew. His hands fly to her hips, keeping her firmly planted where she is just in case she gets any bright ideas to move away. 

Still spent from moments before, Adrien is quite aware that if Marinette keeps lording over him like she is, with her chest arched out, her breasts on full display in the morning light, and her face alight with an infectious grin, it would not be long before he was crazed to be inside her again. 

The light through the windows plays on her exposed skin, setting her to shine like a pearl. Every curve, every hollow kissed by perfect golden light. She leans down to thread her hands through his hair, tilting his head up to meet her seeking lips. He feels her breasts brush his chest. Her thighs flex against his flanks. 

She parts from him, her breaths panting. _“Should we get dressed?”_ she asks laughingly, the light in her eyes saying she knows the answer. 

Nevertheless, Adrien obliges her with an answer of his own, clamping his hands on her thighs to flip them both against the mattress so that she is now under him. He rises above her, grinning, soaking in the image of her naked body dressed in nothing but sunlight. 

He swoops down to capture a breathless kiss from her. _“I like you dressed just the way you are.”_


End file.
